Healing Arts
by catharticone
Summary: Edward is determined to take care of Bella after their return from Italy, but does he really know best?
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer**: The Twilight world is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just borrowing for a bit…_

_**Note**: This story is set toward the end of 'New Moon' shortly after Bella, Edward, and Alice return from Italy. _

* * *

Curled up with Bella on my couch, I could almost forget the agony of our separation. The worst moments—the longest in my existence—were those in which I believed I had lost her forever. But she was here with me now, nestled in the cradle of my legs, her back resting against my stone chest. My hands sat gently upon her hips as I idly read over her shoulder. She held a book, but she had not turned the page in some time. My own eyes had moved over the text six times; it was now ingrained in my mind indelibly.

I lifted one hand to brush my fingers over her soft hair. The fragrance still captivated me, but I missed the fullness and glossiness her tresses once had. The effects of my absence left a tightness in my chest. While Bella's skin remained wonderfully soft, I could feel the prominence of her bones beneath the fingers splayed over her hip. She had lost weight during those months when I was gone. I had wanted desperately to protect her; instead, I had nearly destroyed her.

I could not remake the past, though. The best I could do was to take care of Bella now. Since our return from Italy eight days ago, I had done all I could to ensure that she ate properly and rested soundly each night. Nightmares disrupted her sleep with disturbing frequency, but a few whispered words in her ear and a heart-felt caress upon her beautiful cheek seemed to soothe her so that she could return to restful slumber. Even so, I wished she could sleep deeply for a full eight or nine hours. Perhaps that would finally banish the faint darkness beneath her eyes and restore the rosiness to her pallid cheeks.

I had discussed my concerns with Carlisle. He felt that Bella's physical condition was improving but reminded me that her restoration to full health would take some time, as well continued vigilance upon my part. I knew that he felt partially responsible for her condition, too, and he wished to help her if he could. He had provided some vitamin supplements that I gave her with her meals, and he had agreed to prescribe a mild sleep aid if her nightmares did not diminish soon.

Perhaps the greatest kindness he had shown her, however, was the gift of time with me. Carlisle understood that my presence—my gentle yet sincere affection, my voice, my touch—were the best tonic of all for Bella. So he had arranged for her to spend the weekend at our home, sending my siblings away and taking Esme on a trip to their island in Brazil. Bella's father believed that she was here with Alice, catching up on her schoolwork, while I was away visiting relatives in Alaska. Esme had assisted us by phoning Charlie from the airport this afternoon to assure him that the girls were already hard at work, and that she would ensure that their academic endeavors continued.

While neither of my parents particularly enjoyed prevarication, both felt a need to atone for their part in the entire family's leaving Bella. Like Carlisle, Esme understood that what Bella needed the most was me.

Daylight had faded completely now. I glanced at the clock to see that it was after seven. Bella needed to eat soon. Esme had prepared a hearty chicken stew that I planned to serve this evening. She and I had stocked the kitchen with a variety of food and drink to carry Bella through the entire weekend.

I kissed Bella's temple softly. "It's time for dinner, love," I said.

She lifted her head, rotating it slowly. "Okay," she replied. She reached up to rub at her neck.

"Is your neck stiff?" I asked. I should have thought to wrap a blanket around her. The coolness of my skin and rigidity of my posture had caused some muscle tension for her, I feared.

"I think I just need to stretch," she said, swinging her legs over the edge of the couch.

She pushed herself to her feet, swaying slightly. Immediately I was behind her, steadying her with hands at her elbow and hip. Her heart sped up, and she took two quick breaths. Her rapid blinking told me that she was experiencing some vertigo.

"Are you feeling light-headed?" I asked, my voice soft yet concerned.

"I must have gotten up too fast," she responded. "I'm fine now."

I inhaled slowly, tasting her scent carefully. I did not detect any difficulties with her glucose levels, but it was best to err on the side of caution and see that she ate as soon as possible.

Keeping one arm around her waist, I led her downstairs to the kitchen. I heated the stew while she sipped a glass of apple juice. She smiled as she watched me at the stove. Her cheeks were rosy now, that familiar blush I loved creeping over her fair skin.

"I wish you'd let me do that," she said. "You really don't need to wait on me."

"I don't need to," I replied with a crooked grin, "but I want to."

I darted over to place a soft kiss upon her cheek, then I returned to the stove. Bella continued to watch me, her expression content. We had quickly found our emotional footing again once we returned to Forks. I felt grateful for that. She forgave me so easily; her heart was inexplicably open to me. I did not deserve her clemency, but I was grateful for it.

Bella's cheeks paled when I set the bowl of stew before her. She told me that it looked good, but after the first small spoonful she paused, sipping some more juice.

"Does it taste all right?" I asked. Esme had followed the instructions very diligently, but it was possible that the recipe was flawed.

"It's good," Bella said, giving me a half-hearted smile. "I just don't feel very hungry right now."

"You need to eat something, love," I reminded her gently. "It's important to have some food in your stomach when you take your vitamins. It improves absorbency of the nutrients and prevents stomach upset." I had given her a vitamin tablet just prior to the stew.

She nodded; I had explained this before. "I'll have a little more."

She fished out a small piece of potato then two carrots, chewing each slowly and drinking more juice with each swallow. Then she set down her spoon and leaned back in her chair.

"Darling," I said, "that's not enough."

"I'm sorry, Edward." Her voice was soft, her tone apologetic. "Could I just have some more juice?"

I dashed to the refrigerator to refill her glass. When I returned to her, she was rubbing a hand over her forehead.

"Do you have a headache?" I asked.

She sighed then admitted, "Just a little one."

I realized that I should have turned on a brighter light as she was reading. She must have struggled to make out the words in the dimness… I set down the glass and moved behind her to massage her temples and brow gently. My thumbs slid down to the base of her skull, pressing lightly to alleviate some of the stiffness I felt in the muscles.

After a few minutes, Bella told me that she felt better. She was still reticent to eat but said she would try again later. She asked if I would play for her. I could deny her nothing, so I took her hand and led her to the couch. She settled back with a small smile, and I moved to the new piano. I played softly, delicately, hoping that the music would soothe the remaining tension from her head and neck.

She appeared content, her eyes half-closed as the music continued. I played for nearly an hour then moved back to her side, sitting beside her and pulling her into my arms.

"Mmm, that was nice," she said, resting her head against my chest.

"Are you feeling better?"

I felt a small movement of her head that I took as a nod. I kissed her crown.

"Good," I murmured. "I'm going to heat up a little more stew… unless you'd like to try something else? I can make you a grilled cheese sandwich if you prefer."

"No, the stew will be fine."

"I'll be right back." I stood and hurried to the kitchen. Within a few minutes I had a small bowl of steaming stew in my hands.

I brought it to her in the living room, thinking she might be more comfortable on the couch. She managed several spoonfuls before setting aside the bowl. She remained pale, however, and there was a tightness around her eyes that I had come to recognize as indicative of pain.

"Your headache hasn't gone away," I commented tenderly, smoothing my thumb over her cheek.

"It's really not that bad," she replied, attempting a smile.

"Would you like some Tylenol?"

She shook her head. "Maybe just a hot shower."

"That's a good idea."

I helped her to her feet then kissed her cheek, watching as she made her way up the stairs. She remained in the shower for some time, finally emerging from the bathroom and saying my name.

I was up the stairs in an instant. Bella sat on the couch, blotting her hair with a towel. She wore a periwinkle tank top and flannel pajama pants. Her small feet were bare, her toes still pink from the hot water.

"If you don't mind," she said, looking up, "I think I'll just go on to bed."

I had planned to make up the couch for her. She insisted it would be perfectly comfortable for three nights. But now I had my doubts. I wanted her to sleep well, and I knew that the couch would not provide the soft support of a bed.

"Could you get a pillow and blanket?" she asked.

I shook my head and gave her a slightly cryptic smile. "Actually, no."

She appeared confused, setting the towel in her lap. Before she could question me, I had scooped her up into my arms and begun carrying her down the hall. She felt so warm against my cold skin. The shower had left her heated; it was marvelous.

In a few seconds I had reached my destination. I opened the door and strode to the large bed in the center of Carlisle and Esme's room.

"Edward, what—"

"This seems to be the most comfortable bed in the house," I explained. "Esme got a new mattress just a few days ago, and it's an excellent quality."

The couples in my family went through mattresses with some frequency, and I knew this one had not yet been used. That was the primary reason I had chosen Carlisle's and Esme's room. The fact that my mother always made up their bed with the softest, most sumptuous linens also appealed to me. Bella would rest in absolute comfort here.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly take their room!" Bella protested as I set her on the bed.

"They won't mind at all. As a matter of fact, Esme told me that I should offer it to you instead of making you sleep on my couch."

"But I like your couch!"

I chuckled. "And I like having you on it. But I want you to sleep well tonight, love, and the couch is too hard. You'll only be sore in the morning if you spend the night on it."

Bella ran her hand over the silky soft duvet. "Are you sure they won't mind?"

"Positive."

I folded back the covers and fluffed one of the pillows. Bella yawned then blushed at her body's response to the lovely bed. I smiled encouragingly as she crawled between the sheets. She sank back, her head cradled in the pillow. I did not inform her that each pillow cost more than the entire set of linens on her own bed…

"Comfortable?" I asked with a wry grin.

"Very," she admitted, but her expression tightened. "Are you going to stay with me?"

"Of course," I replied, stretching out beside her. I flicked off the bedside light then let her settle against me, wrapping one arm around her blanket-clad shoulder. I kissed her warm cheek and whispered, "Sweet dreams, love."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

Bella slept fairly quietly for several hours. I remained beside her, but I had rolled over onto my back so that my cold body would not chill her. Her heartbeat was a gentle lullaby that left me calm as I lay with closed eyes. I felt at peace in the stillness of the night.

When her heart rate accelerated slightly and her breathing became more shallow, I knew that she was stirring. She shifted around, a small groan escaping her.

"I'm right here," I told her softly, resting my hand over her soft hair.

"Mmm…" She sat up, blinking and trying to focus her gaze in the dimness. "Edward?"

"Yes, love," I replied then repeated with soft emphasis, "I'm here."

Her hands patted the mattress tentatively, small fingers grasping the soft linens. "Where are we?" In her drowsy state, she had forgotten that we had changed rooms.

"We're in Carlisle's and Esme's bedroom," I reminded her gently.

"Oh… right." She moved, placing her feet upon the floor.

"What do you need?" I asked. I was sitting up now, ready to do her bidding.

"Just… the bathroom."

"Wait one moment," I said, dashing across the room to turn on the light in the shower stall. It would provide sufficient illumination for her to see but would not be as harsh as the overhead fixture.

I returned to the bed. She was already on her feet, one hand pressed over her abdomen. I recalled that she had consumed quite a lot of juice; her bladder must be uncomfortably full. She shuffled off to the bathroom, slightly unsteady on her feet. I watched solicitously to be certain she would not stumble.

She shut the door. I tried to focus upon the sounds I could hear outside to offer her a semblance of privacy. I heard the toilet flush, then the water running in the sink. Beneath it, Bella gave a little grunt. Something was wrong.

I got up and walked quietly toward the door, listening intently now. She had shut off the water. She was breathing rather heavily, and her heart was beating quickly.

"Bella?" I questioned. "Are you all right?"

Her bare feet padded softly over the tile, then I heard her hand on the doorknob. She opened the door. In the pale light, her skin looked ashen.

"My stomach feels a little off," she confessed in an apologetic tone.

"I'm sorry," I replied immediately, wrapping my arm around her. "Are you nauseated?"

"Um… a little, I guess."

"Do you feel like you're going to be ill?"

"I don't think so. I guess you were right about taking vitamins with food…" She gave me a wan smile.

I worried that the stew was to blame. Could the chicken have been rancid? Would Esme have realized if it were?

"Is there anything I can get you?" I asked, quickly rifling through my impeccable memory for symptoms of food poisoning.

She shook her head. "I just want to go back to bed."

I helped her across the room, keeping my touch very light. She sank down into the mattress, an involuntary sigh escaping her as her head touched the pillow.

"Do you still have the headache?" I asked.

"Mmm" was her sleepy reply. I was not sure now to interpret it.

Feeling anxious, I stretched out beside her once again, moving carefully so that I would not jostle the bed. I rested my hand very softly over her hip. After a short while, her breathing grew deeper, and I knew she was sleeping again.

I listened to the small sounds her body made. I could always hear her heart and lungs functioning quite clearly, but with some small shifts in my attention I could also discern digestive sounds. I focused intently for several minutes but heard nothing out of the ordinary.

Bella slept quietly for another two hours. Shortly before five, she grew restless again. I shifted up onto my elbow so that I could see her face. Her pale brow was tight; she was in pain.

"Bella?" I said softly, placing my hand upon her shoulder.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she squinted up at me. "Edward," she breathed with an undertone of relief.

I kissed her brow, allowing my lips to linger for a moment, then brushed my thumb over her temple. Her skin was very warm. "What's the matter, love?" I asked.

She sighed then murmured, "Just the headache again."

"Let me get you something."

"No… I'm afraid it'll bother my stomach."

"Are you still feeling queasy?" Nausea could accompany a migraine. Had she developed these debilitating headaches while I was away?

"Just a little, but I don't want to risk it."

"How bad is the headache?"

"Not the worst I've ever had… not the best."

"Is there ever a good headache?" I attempted to tease.

This drew a tiny smile from her. "Probably not."

Growing serious again, I asked, "Have you ever had one like this before?"

She hesitated for a moment. "I'm not sure… maybe? It feels sort of familiar somehow."

"But it's not something that's happened recently? Over the last few months?"

Her fingers curled around my wrist. "No, Edward. It's just a headache. I don't get them very often."

"A cool compress should help," I mused. I sat up fully and placed my palm over her brow. She was so warm…

"Oh, right there," she said softly as my fingertips brushed her right temple.

"Is this where it hurts?" I asked.

"Yes."

It could be a cluster headache… I allowed my fingers to massage the area very gently. Gradually I shifted my hand so that I was pressing it lightly over the entire right side of her head, fingers over her temple and brow and thumb beneath her ear.

"That's helping," she said after a few minutes.

"I'm glad."

I kissed her forehead very softly. Her skin still seemed overly warm to me. Then again, she was under a heavy duvet. She slept under two thin blankets at Charlie's house.

After another several minutes, she moved her head slightly. "Oh…" she muttered.

"What is it, love?" I asked.

"My ear," she replied. "I think that's where the pain is. I can feel it now that your hand is sort of numbing the other areas."

Suddenly I understood. It all made sense: The slight dizziness, the mild nausea, the headache. Those were all common symptoms accompanying an inner ear infection. I leaned down to inhale next to the delicate shell of Bella's ear. I could just detect a faintly sour hint, a tiny imperfection amid the glorious essence of her overall scent.

"I'll be right back," I said, slipping quickly from the bedroom.

I hurried to Carlisle's office, easily finding his medical bag. When I returned to the bedroom, I switched on one of the small lights near the door. I would need some illumination, but as before I did not wish to exacerbate Bella's discomfort by subjecting her to harsh light.

She had closed her eyes again. One hand was pressed beneath her ear.

I set the bag on the night table then perched beside her. "Can you sit up for a few moments?" I requested.

She opened her beautiful eyes to blink at me. "Okay."

I helped her up, adjusting the pillows so that she could lean against them. Then I opened Carlisle's bag and found the otoscope.

"Edward?" she questioned. "What are you doing?"

"I need to look at your ear," I replied.

She eyed the instrument warily. "Um, do you know how to use that?"

"Yes," I assured her, vowing to use all my preternatural skill to keep my hand unfailingly steady.

Her trust in me was implicit, and the single word seemed to reassure her. She gave a small nod of consent. I brushed aside her hair then very carefully slid the tip of the otoscope into her ear.

The small light revealed a reddened, inflamed tympanic membrane. I winced at the sight, knowing it must be quite painful.

"It looks like otitis media," I reported, withdrawing the otoscope carefully. "It's an infection in the middle ear."

She nodded dully. "Okay."

I touched her cheek again. "You feel feverish, love. I want to check your temperature."

I slid a thermometer beneath her tongue then held her hand while we waited for the small beep. I read the numbers, not happy with the result.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Under a hundred," I replied somewhat vaguely. Ninety-nine point nine was 1.3 degrees higher than I liked to see.

Bella sighed again. The previous evening's happiness had drained away, and now she appeared rather despondent.

"It'll be all right," I told her. "Antibiotics should clear it up in a few days. In the meantime, we can manage the pain and fever fairly easily. Okay?"

"Okay," she replied quietly.

Carlisle's prescription pad lay in the inside pocket of his bag. I was quite adept at replicating his handwriting; it would be a simple thing to write out a prescription for Bella. Still, I had enormous respect for my father's professional skills and ethics, and I would not do this without his knowledge.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and quickly selected his number. Taking Bella's hand again, I said, "I'm just going to speak with Carlisle for a minute."

He answered on the second ring. "Hello, son," he said amiably.

"Carlisle."

He must have heard something in my tone, because instantly the tenor of his voice changed. "What's wrong, Edward?"

"Bella's ill," I said quickly. "Otitis media."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. The tympanic membrane is inflamed, and I can…" I lowered my voice so that Bella would not be able to understand, "smell the infection."

"Does she have a fever?"

"99.9," I replied quickly and softly. "She's experienced some minor nausea and dizziness, too, as well as a fairly severe headache."

"Are there any signs of respiratory infection?"

I knew that upper respiratory infections often led to otitis media. I had detected nothing abnormal in her breathing, but I spent a few long moments listening carefully to her respiration.

Finally, I replied, "No."

"Have you checked her nose and throat?"

I realized that I should have assessed her more thoroughly in case there were other issues, as well. "No…"

"I'll wait," he said.

I set the phone on the night table then picked up the otoscope again. Bella's eyes were half-closed, but she opened them when she sensed my movements. I tilted up her chin, saying, "I need to look in your nose."

"_In_ my nose?" she repeated, surprised by the request. "Eew."

I could hear Carlisle's soft chuckle, but I didn't think she could.

"I adore every part of you," I retorted lightly, taking a moment to kiss the end of her nose.

Then I slipped the tip of the otoscope into her left nostril, followed by the right. There were no signs of irritation or infection. She rubbed her nose when I removed the instrument.

"Well?" she asked.

"It looks fine," I told her sincerely. I heard Carlisle's murmur of acknowledgment. I rummaged in his bag again to find a tongue depressor and penlight.

Bella sighed when she saw them but opened her mouth without complaint. Her tonsils and throat appeared healthy.

"As lovely and perfect as the rest of you," I reported, knowing that Carlisle would understand.

"That's good, son," he said, his voice easily audible to me. "Check her mastoid and superficial parotid lymph nodes," he instructed softly.

I cupped her face in my hands, kissing her lips lightly before using my fingertips to probe gently over the nodes behind and beneath her ears. Then I moved down to feel carefully beneath her jaws. She flinched.

"Does that hurt?" I asked with concern. I did not perceive any swelling.

"No, it just tickles a little," she replied.

I arched an eyebrow at her, saying, "I'll have to remember that."

Carlisle had the graciousness to keep from laughing, but I heard him draw in a controlled breath. I picked up the phone again to report my findings. Bella watched me, her eyes widening slightly at a few of the technical words that flowed so easily from my tongue.

When I had finished speaking, he said, "There doesn't appear to be any other significant involvement, so my guess is that the infection was caused by something external…"

My stone heart sank and I softly said, "Like water—sea water—in her ear."

"Yes," he replied sympathetically, "that is a possibility."

Even though he was thousands of miles away, I knew what he was thinking; my thoughts were the same. Only hours after her plunge into the icy ocean, Bella had spent significant time on an airplane. Increased pressure in her inner ear had likely meant that a drop of water remained trapped, ultimately leading to infection.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "Amoxicillin?" I asked, knowing this was usually the preferred antibiotic to treat otitis media… unless I had missed a recent journal article to the contrary. I had gotten somewhat behind on my reading over the past few months.

"It would be preferable to hold off on anything other than pain meds for a day or so," Carlisle replied. "Since the infection appears relatively minor, there's a good chance that it will clear up on its own."

His response surprised me. "But why not begin treating it immediately so that she doesn't have to wait?" I asked, slightly perturbed that he would allow her to remain in discomfort a moment longer than necessary.

"Edward, you know that overuse of antibiotics can cause other issues," he said calmly. "In nearly 80% of cases like this, the infection clears on its own. Let's wait twenty-four hours and see how she's doing. If she's any worse, we can start her on amoxicillin right away. In the meantime, give her Tylenol for the pain and fever, and try some warm compresses on the ear if she needs more relief. See that she keeps well hydrated and eats—she'll probably do better with small meals several times a day."

"All right," I said somewhat begrudgingly.

"I'll check back with you in a few hours," he finished.

"Fine… thanks."

"Let me speak with Bella for a moment before I go," he requested.

I passed the phone to her. She smiled as soon as she heard my father's voice.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?" he asked warmly.

"I'll be okay," she replied.

"I know you will be. Edward's going to take good care of you. He'll give you something to help with the pain and fever. And I want you to drink plenty of fluids and try to eat whatever Edward brings you, all right?"

"I'll try, Carlisle."

"Feel better, dear."

"Thanks. Have fun in Brazil."

She handed the phone back to me, but I had no need to speak with Carlisle again. I knew how to take care of my Bella. I hung up.

She glanced at Carlisle's open bag as I set the phone beside it. Her expression was odd, a mixture of curiosity and admiration.

"What is it, love?" I asked.

She shook her head. "That was just a little surreal. I mean, I know you graduated from medical school, but I guess I thought it was just theoretical knowledge." She shrugged.

"I'm sorry…Did it make you uncomfortable? I just didn't want to wait—"

She lifted her hand to rest it against my cheek. "No, it was actually sort of impressive. And you were very gentle; it wasn't uncomfortable at all."

The warmth of her skin reminded me that she was running a fever. I kissed her palm then stood. "I'm going to get you some Tylenol. I'll be right back."

I brought the medication with a glass of cool water. She accepted both without complaint. I had worried that she might resist the acetaminophen for fear that it would upset her stomach further and was prepared to assure her that it was an unlikely occurrence.

She drank half the water then settled back among the pillows. I prepared a warm compress and placed it over her ear then began stroking her cheek softly. I had been humming her lullaby for only a few minutes when Bella slipped into slumber again.

Despite my presence, Bella's sleep was fitful, and shortly after dawn she woke fully. I could tell immediately that she remained uncomfortable, although she claimed the pain had dulled somewhat. I had monitored her temperature by touch while she slept, but now I needed a more accurate reading.

"I want to take your temperature again," I told her.

She nodded tiredly, opening her mouth for the thermometer. It registered 99.5. I had hoped that the acetaminophen would have a stronger effect. Most likely the infection was worsening.

Bella got out of bed and walked slowly to the bathroom to attend to her human needs. I could hear a few small, pained sighs escape her. She was ill, and it was my fault. If I had not left her—if she had not begun spending time with that cur Jacob—if she had not had to come to Italy to save me—on so many levels, I was to blame for this.

Once again I felt a stab of remorse with the knowledge that I could not undo my past mistakes. However, I could protect her health and comfort in the future; this was within my grasp. I would remedy the situation immediately.

I removed Carlisle's prescription pad from his bag, tearing off a sheet and tucking it into my pocket. I knew what Bella needed, and I would ensure that she got it.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

I waited for Bella to finish in the bathroom, then I helped her back to bed.

"Why don't you rest for a while longer," I suggested, "and then I'll bring you something to eat. Is there anything that particularly appeals to you?"

"Um, ginger ale?" she asked. "Or I guess 7-Up would be okay, too."

"Your wish is my command," I replied with a loving smile. "I'll make you a deal. I'll get you some ginger ale if you'll have a scrambled egg and a piece of toast with it." She would need something in her stomach when she took the amoxicillin.

"You drive a hard bargain," she joked weakly.

I made sure that her phone was next to her, then I told her that I would be back within the hour with her beverage of choice. I disliked leaving Bella alone, but I had few other options.

I closed the bedroom door then darted to Carlisle's office. Sitting at his desk, I used his favorite pen to fill in the prescription, mimicking his handwriting perfectly. Then I hurried to the garage, intent on returning as quickly as possible.

* * *

The drugstore in town opened at 7:00 AM, and I walked in the door at 7:02. I handed the prescription to the pharmacist, who merely glanced it and gave me a nod. "I'll have this ready in about 10 minutes," he informed me.

I had written the prescription for myself. The pharmacist and Charlie were acquainted and sometimes chatted at the diner. If Bella's name were on the prescription, there was a slight chance that the pharmacist could mention something to Charlie which indicated that I was in town this weekend. I would not risk any further consequences for Bella.

While I waited for the prescription, I browsed in the drugstore's small food and beverage section. I found ginger ale in cans and purchased a six-pack. It went against my better judgment, but I also got a box of Pop Tarts for Bella, hoping that if nothing else appealed to her, these would.

I thanked the pharmacist again when he handed me the medication. He gave the usual cautions, which I acknowledged with a nod. I heard no suspicions in his thoughts; he had filled dozens of prescriptions written out by Carlisle and saw nothing unusual in this one. He wondered idly what condition the amoxicillin was intended to treat, noting that I appeared pale. He offered a polite, "Take care, son," then turned back to his work.

Items in hand, I returned to my car and drove as quickly as possible back home. Bella remained in bed dozing. I dashed downstairs again to prepare a slice of toast and pour some ginger ale into a glass then returned to the bedroom.

I spoke Bella's name softly, caressing her cheek until she roused. Smiling down at her, I said, "I got your soda. I have some medication for you, too."

"Is it time for more Tylenol?" she asked.

"In about an hour." I handed her the glass and watched as she took a sip. "How is it?"

"It's good," she replied.

"Have some toast." I held out the plate. I had put strawberry preserves on the bread, avoiding butter in case the oiliness might irritate her stomach.

Bella ate half of the slice, then I gave her the amoxicillin. She swallowed the pills obediently with some more soda. After two bites of the second half of her toast, she set the plate aside.

"Is that all you can eat?" I questioned.

She nodded. "I want to save room for the scrambled egg," she reminded me with a little grin.

I smiled in return. "Coming right up."

I darted downstairs again, pleased that she was willing try the egg. Good food, plentiful hydration, and the antibiotics would have her feeling better soon. I would be certain of it.

* * *

Bella remained sluggish and slightly uncomfortable throughout the day, but her fever did not increase, nor did she report any worsening of her pain. I provided a dose of Tylenol every four hours and gave her a second dose of amoxicillin in the evening.

Carlisle had called mid-morning to check on Bella. I had reported on her current condition but did not inform him about the antibiotics. When he asked to speak with her, I allowed my first instinct to surface and told him that she was sleeping, when in fact she was awake. In retrospect, I was not certain why I had done that.

My father phoned again just after 7:00 in the evening. Bella had eaten a small bowl of stew, which pleased me. I had kept her hydrated with ginger ale and several small glasses of water throughout the day, but her appetite had been lacking. Lunch had consisted of a mug of chicken soup. She had sipped the broth and eaten most of the noodles but left the meat untouched. So I was glad she had consumed some protein with her dinner.

I told Carlisle what Bella had eaten; he was pleased, as well. Her low-grade fever remained, but it was hovering at 99.3. He did not appear concerned with this and told me to continue the Tylenol throughout the night.

He wished to speak with Bella, and her expression seemed eager when she realized that he was on the phone, so I did not deny his request this time. He inquired about her level of discomfort and symptoms, then they exchanged a few pleasantries. Esme wanted a few words with Bella, too; I knew she was worried about her newest daughter. Even though I felt somewhat tense during Bella's short conversations with my parents, I was glad that I had permitted it when I saw the contented smile on her face.

* * *

Bella slept better that night than the previous one. In the morning she appeared more cheerful and told me that her ear did not ache as much. Still, I would continue the Tylenol, and of course she needed to complete the full, five-day course of the antibiotics.

I check her temperature again shortly after she woke. It remained above 99, but it had not risen. As I set the small instrument on the night table, Bella made a little noise that I had come to recognize as indicative of curiosity.

I looked up at her. "What is it?" I queried, amused by her inquisitive expression. She was adorable when her eyebrows pulled together above her bright, questioning eyes.

Her gaze flicked to the thermometer. "How did you get through medical school?" she asked.

I chuckled, tapping my temple. "Perfect memory, remember? It's not a challenge to learn new information, although medical school did require somewhat more analytical thought than other academic pursuits, particularly high school."

"No, that's not what I meant. I know you're extremely intelligent—perfect memory or not, you're scary smart." She grinned at the adjective she'd chosen. "But don't medical students have to practice some of the procedures on each other, like taking a pulse or blood pressure reading?"

I nodded, understanding her confusion now. Her question was a perceptive one. "They do…unless a student has a serious blood disorder."

Bella's eyes widened slightly, even as her mouth turned up in a grin. "What sort of blood disorder?"

"One that affects clotting, one that can lead to bruising with any inadvertent pressure. I was always an object of some fascination to both my fellow students and professors."

"So you could perform procedures but couldn't have them done on you."

I nodded. "Rather convenient. My 'illness' was also the presumed reason for my medical studies. The story was that I wanted to go into research to try to understand more about the disease."

"So Carlisle wrote you a doctor's note to get out of certain activities?"

I laughed, recalling the machinations he and I had gone through both times I had enrolled in medical school. It had been easier in the second instance; experience was a good teacher. "Basically, yes, although it was actually a lengthy letter. Of course the letter couldn't come from my father; that wouldn't carry the same weight as one written by a physician unrelated to the student. So I used a different last name—"

This comment had truly piqued her curiosity. "What was it?"

"Masen the first time, and Anthony the second time."

"Edward Masen and Edward Anthony," she mused. "Was it strange to be called by a different last name?"

"Masen did feel odd, as I hadn't use that since my human life. My memories of that time are fairly hazy, as I've told you, but being addressed as 'Mr. Masen' did seem strange yet poignant at first. After a time I was quite comfortable with it. 'Mr. Anthony' just felt foreign. I had to make an effort to respond immediately to that moniker." I chucked again as I recalled the way my family had helped me prepare. "Carlisle had everyone in the house call me 'Mr. Anthony' for a month before I began school."

"It took a lot of effort for you to get through those programs, didn't it?" I heard the unspoken content in her question.

"It was… an adjustment, particularly when we did clinicals at the hospital. There were times when I had to leave a room during a procedure, using my own disorder as an excuse. That only went so far, though." I arched an eyebrow at her.

Bella gave me a playful little shove. "You dazzled them!"

I shrugged then gave her a crooked smile. "Only when I had to."

Bella had many more questions for me. We had never spent much time discussing my many academic endeavors, and she was quite interested in hearing about the subjects I had studied.

For my part, I was happy to see her engaged in conversation, her eyes sparkling with fascination. Her lethargy was gone, and her energy was beginning to return. She was definitely feeling better. If I had followed Carlisle's advice, she would likely still be fighting the infection on her own. I knew I had made the right decision in prescribing the amoxicillin for her. I felt a measure of satisfaction knowing she would be fully recovered soon, in large part due to my diligent care.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

By Sunday evening, Bella's fever was down to 98.9, and the inflammation in her ear had diminished. The treatment was working well, with no side effects, and I felt confident that she would be even further improved by Monday morning.

My prediction was accurate. The medication was effective, and in the morning her temperature was a wonderfully normal 98.6, and her ear looked much better. I would continue to keep a close eye on her at school, but I was certain that it was only precautionary.

Esme had phoned Bella's father on Sunday evening to ask if she might stay with Alice one more night. While Carlisle and Esme disliked keeping Bella's illness from Charlie, they agreed that it was best that I monitor her closely and provide whatever emotional comfort I could. So Esme once again fabricated a simple tale about Alice and Bella having one additional essay to complete and needing good Internet access. Chief Swan's slow connection and ancient computer made this a plausible reason for Bella to remain at our home.

Alice and Jasper had planned initially to return on Monday morning, but they decided to spend an extra few days away, needing some more time together after the traumatic events in Italy. So Bella and I returned to school alone. The day passed without incident, although she was slightly quieter than usual.

I drove her home after school, remaining with her in the living room until Charlie returned and my limited visiting hours ended. Immediately after leaving through the front door, I leaped up to her window and slipped inside her room. She came upstairs just before dinner, and I gave her her evening dose of amoxicillin. She promised that she would eat with Charlie, telling me that her appetite was just about back to normal.

She slept comfortably that night, and by Tuesday morning I knew she was well. Her eyes were bright, and she smiled and laughed easily as we drove to school. The crisis had passed, and I felt very glad that I'd had to foresight to begin treating her right away, rather than allowing her to suffer for another full day as Carlisle had recommended.

* * *

Carlisle and Esme returned late Tuesday night. Bella was excited to see the family, so I decided to take her to our home for an hour or so after school on Wednesday. Charlie permitted Bella to visit with me until her curfew began, so we had a little time.

Esme flitted to the door the moment we entered the house, embracing Bella warmly. Then she gently took Bella's face in her hands and studied her for a moment.

"How are you feeling, honey?" she asked.

"Much better," Bella replied, a soft blush coloring her cheeks at the attention.

"I'm glad. I was worried about you," my mother said, looping an arm around Bella's waist and leading her to the kitchen. "Carlisle told me that good nutrition is important for recovery, so I want you to have something to eat. I've made blueberry muffins—we found some lovely, fresh berries while we were hunting earlier today."

"Thanks, Esme," Bella responded graciously, blushing anew.

Carlisle appeared in the kitchen shortly after Esme had seated Bella. He kissed her cheek and gave her shoulder a gentle, affectionate squeeze.

"How are you doing?" he asked, his voice more paternal than professional.

"Fine," Bella answered with a smile.

"No discomfort in the ear at all?" he inquired, his gaze upon her intent.

"No, it feels good now."

Carlisle's hand slipped into his pocket to produce an otoscope. "May I? Just to be sure."

Bella gave a shrug of acquiescence and pulled aside her hair. Carlisle slid the instrument into her ear, taking several long seconds to peer inside. When he had finished, he probed gently around and beneath the ear with his fingertips.

He gave Bella a smile and nod of satisfaction. "It looks fine—the infection's cleared up completely."

His thoughts skittered briefly over our discussion about amoxicillin; he was not smug, but he acknowledged that he had been right. I changed the subject quickly, suggesting that Esme show Bella some photos from the Isle.

Nibbling a warm muffin, Bella watched the slideshow on Esme's laptop with interest, marveling at the island's beauty. Carlisle had some paperwork to do, so he excused himself. I moved to stand behind Bella, my hands upon her shoulders. My stone heart filled with joy to see her happy and well.

* * *

Bella's sleep was somewhat fitful on Wednesday night. She said she felt fine in the morning, and once she got to school she appeared her usual self. However, I noticed that she excused herself to go to the restroom between each class; this was not typical for her. Toward the end of the school day, I finally asked if she felt queasy. She shook her head, quietly replying that she was all right. I recalled that she had eaten lunch with no apparent nausea, so I tried to push aside my vague worries.

Charlie had a meeting in Port Angeles that night and would not be home until after 10:00. Esme insisted that Bella come for dinner, still intent on making certain that her human daughter was well fed. Chief Swan was willing to adjust Bella's curfew once my mother assured him that the entire family would be present, and that study time was planned after the meal.

Bella ate the spinach lasagna and salad that my mother lovingly prepared. However, her appetite seemed lacking. She appeared slightly distracted to me, and I noticed that her free hand moved to her touch her abdomen a number of times. Several bites of food remained on her plate when she stood, a blush coloring her cheeks as she murmured, "Excuse me, please."

Esme and I listened to her footsteps, easily identifying her destination. She entered the downstairs bathroom, closing the door softly behind herself.

"Is she feeling all right?" Esme inquired softly, her delicate brow furrowing.

"I'm not sure," I replied. It was not uncommon for amoxicillin to cause some stomach upset or even diarrhea, but typically these side effects would manifest while the patient was taking the medication, not after she had stopped.

Bella returned after a few minutes, appearing slightly pale. She gave Esme a thin smile as she took her plate to the sink.

"It was really good," Bella complimented. "Thank you for making it."

Esme took the plate from her. "Are you sure it tasted all right?"

"Oh yes," Bella said, her tone sincere. "If there's any extra, I'd love to take some home."

My mother smiled at this, already pulling a container from the cupboard. "Of course, honey. I can send some for your father, too."

Bella thanked her again, then I suggested we go upstairs. I was still worried about her but felt it would be better to question her in relative privacy. She accompanied me to my room, where we settled on the couch.

I kissed her mouth tenderly then rested my hand over her cheek. She did not feel feverish, nor was she clammy, as she might be if she were nauseated. She shifted slightly to rest her head against my shoulder. We sat quietly for some moments before her hand brushed over her belly, fingers lingering just above her navel.

"I can tell that your stomach is bothering you," I said gently. I hoped that if I phrased the comment as a statement rather than a question she would not deny it.

She sighed, her hand dropping to the cushion.

I stroked her wrist lightly. "When did it start?"

"Late last night, or maybe this morning. I'm not sure, but I really noticed it just after first period," she replied.

"Are you nauseated now?"

She shook her head.

"Diarrhea?" I inquired succinctly.

Her cheeks grew very pink as she looked up at me. "No, Edward. It's nothing like that."

Perplexed, I frowned. "Then what is it?"

"It's probably nothing," she began, slightly hesitant. She lowered her gaze.

"Tell me, love," I urged gently.

To my surprise, she grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it up to reveal her abdomen. Her creamy skin was covered in small, pink spots. They were flat, and there was no blistering evident.

"They don't really itch or anything," she informed me.

"Do you have them elsewhere?"

"Um, yes... it's spreading, I think. I've been checking every hour, and it's on my chest now."

"Let me see your back," I requested.

She leaned forward, and I lifted her shirt. The skin on her back was smooth and perfect. "There's nothing here," I reported.

She peeked down the front of her shirt and sighed. "Still the same." Her shirt had short sleeves, and I could see that her arms were unaffected.

She gave a little shrug, but her heart was beating quickly. "I guess it's some sort of rash?"

"You've worn this shirt before," I noted, "so that's not the cause." I already knew the answer to my next query, but I asked anyway, hoping that my keen sense of smell was wrong. "Have you changed soap or laundry detergent recently?"

"No. I can't think of anything that would be causing it." Her pretty eyebrows drew together as she took in my expression. "Do you think it's something serious?" Her heartbeat accelerated.

I swallowed. "I doubt it…" I paused. While I knew what I needed to do, I still felt reticent. However, Bella's health and safety were my highest priority, so I took a breath and added, "But we should have Carlisle take a look, just to be sure."

"Okay," she agreed.

I knew that she was concerned; it was obvious to me now that she had been anxious about the rash all day.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" I asked, curious about her silence.

"I figured it was some kind of minor irritation at first and that it would just go away in a few hours, but when it didn't, I didn't want to worry you. I know how hard it was for you to see me sick last weekend, and I just didn't want to put you through anything else—"

I pulled her into my arms and held her for a long moment. She had wished to spare my feelings and had suffered in silence. The irony of the fact that I had likely contributed to her suffering was not lost on me.

"I appreciate that, love," I murmured against her silky hair, "but I wish you'd told me. Please don't ever feel that you need to keep things from me."

She nodded and whispered, "Okay."

I drew a slow breath, delaying the inevitable for just a moment longer. It was time to summon Carlisle, consequences be damned.

* * *

_To be concluded..._


	5. Chapter 5

I had heard Carlisle enter the house shortly after Bella and I came upstairs. He was in the kitchen with Esme, currently thinking how fetching his wife looked in her new turquoise silk blouse…

"Carlisle," I requested, "would you come up here, please?"

His feet were already on the stairs as he replied, "Certainly; I'll be right there."

I had just enough time to plant a kiss on Bella's cheek before my father entered the room. He smiled at Bella in greeting, and she returned the gesture.

I heard his questioning thoughts, so without preamble, I said, "Bella has a rash that we want you to look at."

"Of course," he responded, moving to sit beside her on the couch.

Cheeks flushed again, Bella eased up the hem of her shirt to reveal part of the affected area.

"When did it start?" Carlisle asked.

"Either late last night or early this morning," she answered. "It was just a small patch at first, but by noon it was all over my stomach, and now there's some here, too." She touched her chest.

He leaned in a bit to study the irritation on her abdomen, then he straightened, brushing aside her hair to reveal the side of her neck. A few spots were creeping up the creamy skin of her throat.

"Oh," she said, realizing that the rash had spread further. "It's moving up."

"I checked her back," I informed him. "It's clear."

Bella added, somewhat hopefully, "It doesn't itch or hurt."

Carlisle nodded. "It's not contact dermatitis." He pressed his hand lightly against her neck to assess for fever then gently felt her lymph nodes. "Your temperature seems normal." _No indications of infection, Edward._ He was trying to allay my worries, but of course he did not understand the real cause for them.

"I don't feel sick," Bella affirmed.

"That's good," he acknowledged as he continued to assess her silently, evaluating her scent, her heartbeat, and her respiration. He considered her overall condition for a few moments then said, "It may be an allergic reaction. Have you eaten anything unusual lately?"

"No," she answered.

"You've never had any difficulties with Tylenol," he mused. "Have you taken anything else recently?"

"Just the amoxicillin," she replied.

"Amoxicillin?" Carlisle repeated, frowning in confusion.

She gave him a nod, probably thinking she was reminding him as she said, "For my ear infection."

"When did you begin taking it?" he asked, both surprise and curiosity in his mind.

"On Saturday," Bella said. "Edward picked up the prescription that morning, not long after we spoke with you."

Carlisle arched an eyebrow at me. _The prescription?_ _Edward? _ However, he had the graciousness to hold off on questioning me while we were in Bella's presence.

Instead, he focused on Bella, asking, "You finished the prescription?" He was certain she had; he could not smell the medication in her system.

She nodded. "I took the final pill last night. I followed the dosing instructions—Edward made sure of that."

"I'm sure he did," Carlisle replied. I doubt that Bella heard the hint of scathing in his tone, but I certainly did.

My father did not look at me. He kept his eyes on Bella as he explained, "I believe the rash is a reaction to the amoxicillin. It's relatively common in children—five to ten percent of youngsters develop this type of rash when taking the medication. It's less usual for adults, but it does occur occasionally. It should clear up on its own within a few days."

Bella was visibly relieved by this news. She looked up at me with a smile, clearly hoping that my lingering worries had dissipated. I tried to smile in return, but I knew it was somewhat wooden.

"In the meantime," Carlisle continued, "I think an oatmeal bath will prove calming to your skin. Edward, why don't you to come with me to the pharmacy to pick that up?"

There was a commanding tenor in his words, too subtle for Bella to discern, but quite evident to me. I knew I needed to face the inevitable. Still, I resisted.

"I don't want to leave Bella alone," I attempted somewhat feebly.

Esme glided through the door as if on cue, holding a mug in her hand. She gave me a critical look then turned her attention to Bella. "I've made you some herbal tea, honey," she said. "I have cookies downstairs, too."

"Oh, thank you," Bella replied.

"Edward," Carlisle urged as he stood.

Suppressing a sigh, I kissed Bella's cheek then got to my feet, reluctantly following my father from the room. He said nothing as we walked through the house then into the garage. He kept his thoughts sharply focused upon Bella and the possible side effects she might have suffered from the amoxicillin. He seemed to make a point of visualizing the most serious reactions he had seen over the years. I tried not to wince as the images flashed through his mind.

Carlisle waited until we were in his car to speak to me aloud. He looked directly at me as he asked, "Did you write a prescription for amoxicillin while I was gone?" He already knew the answer, of course.

I could not meet his gaze. I lowered my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Yes."

He did not raise his voice; he didn't need to. "After I told you that I felt it was best to wait twenty-four hours?"

"Yes."

He shook his head. "And you are aware that Bella's current issue was caused by the antibiotics? That I preferred to wait to minimize the chance of side effects?"

Once again, all I could do was respond, "Yes." However, when I heard what he planned to say next, I said peremptorily, "I was watching her very carefully the entire time she was taking the medication. I know there can be side-effects, but she didn't have any—no nausea, vomiting, or diarrhea, no signs of anything more serious—"

He arched an eyebrow at me then shook his head again. He continued, "I presume you are also aware that I could lose my license to practice medicine if anyone were to find out that you forged a prescription on my pad?"

"Yes."

"Where did you have it filled?"

"The pharmacy on Main."

"Were there any doubts or suspicions in Henry's mind?"

"No."

"And Bella had no knowledge of this? You led her to believe that I had ordered the prescription for her?"

"Yes," I admitted. For some reason, his pointing out that I had lied to Bella stung particularly strongly.

Then Carlisle was silent. His hands were rigid on the steering wheel; his expression and thoughts were intentionally unreadable, but when he spoke again some long seconds later, his tone was barely controlled. "Please explain to me exactly why you did this."

I was sure he already knew. Still, he needed to hear it from me. So I began, "I couldn't bear to see Bella in pain. I've already hurt her so much. Knowing that she would remain uncomfortable for a full twenty-four hours before beginning treatment, and even then that she would be ill for another day or more, it was just…" I felt suddenly inarticulate as my emotions surged forth. I drew a breath. "I was only trying to help her, to alleviate her suffering in whatever way I could, to spare her anymore hurt. I didn't intend anything malicious or underhanded—"

"But you didn't tell me what you had done," he reminded me unnecessarily.

I swallowed and ran a hand through my hair. "No. And that was wrong. I should have discussed it with you, explained why I thought it best not to wait on the meds. But at the time all I cared about, all I could think about, was making her feel better."

"That is understandable," he responded, compassion nudging at his thoughts. "But Edward, you must balance reason and rationality with your deep love for Bella. Fortunately the repercussions of this one incident aren't terribly serious, although I'm sure she was concerned by the rash."

"Yes," I agreed miserably, "she admitted that she worried about it all day. I know it's my fault."

"Do you plan to tell her that?"

"Yes, I suppose so…"

His posture relaxed slightly, and a half smile tugged at his upper lip. "Hmm. Perhaps it would be better not to."

This surprised me, and I repeated, "But it's my fault—"

"Yes, it is, unquestionably. However, I think it's best to keep this incident between the two of us."

Then he opened his thoughts to me, explaining that Bella's innate sensitivity and tendency to take on blame would likely leave her feeling that she had somehow caused the problem. She was still in a rather delicate state, both physically and emotionally. He didn't wish to inflict any further turmoil upon her.

I nodded. "All right."

He turned the key in the ignition, and I knew that our discussion was coming to a conclusion. "Will you ever consider doing this again?" he asked.

I hesitated momentarily. Honestly, I replied, "Only in an emergency, if I couldn't reach you."

"That is not what I meant," he said.

"Then no. I will defer to your expertise."

"And if you disagree with my recommendation, then we will discuss it," he finished.

"Yes, sir."

He looked at me pointedly before pulling the car out of the garage. "Edward, I want to be certain you realize that the practice of medicine is as much an art as it is a science. You know the science; I have no doubts about that. However, the application of that knowledge—understanding how to treat each patient given all of the variables and factors involved—is where medicine becomes an art."

"Which can only come with experience," I finished.

He nodded, his expression slightly wistful now. He knew as well as I that my eternal physical age of seventeen would make such a thing impossible. "I'm sorry that you were never able to acquire that experience. I believe you would have made a fine physician."

"Thank you, Carlisle. That's kind of you, particularly in light of the circumstances."

He gave my shoulder a squeeze, then he pulled the car out of the garage. During the drive to town, neither of us spoke much, but the silence was not uncomfortable. While Carlisle was disappointed by my actions, he was not angry with me. He hesitated to invoke any punishment that could affect Bella, so the usual options, such as rescinding my driving privileges or requiring me to remain at home outside of school hours, were poor choices.

I suppose he knew that I was angry enough with myself; my own self-chastisement was much worse than anything he could dole out. Because I could not confess my wrongdoing to Bella, I could not offer her the apology I so wished to give. This was my punishment, and it was enough.

* * *

_To be concluded in the epilogue... _


	6. Chapter 6

As we entered the town limits, it occurred to me that there was one more thing I needed to confess to Carlisle. Before we reached the pharmacy, I spoke again.

"You should probably know," I began, hesitating for an instant, "that I wrote the prescription for myself."

He looked at me, his brow furrowing. "Why did you do that?"

"Henry and Chief Swan are acquaintances. Occasionally they sit together at the diner. I didn't want to risk Henry mentioning anything about Bella being ill and my coming in for her prescription."

"You didn't want Charlie to know that you were with Bella last weekend," he confirmed.

I nodded. "The last thing I want to do is cause more friction between her and her father."

He sighed. "I suppose that's understandable."

He continued driving past the pharmacy without stopping. I realized that he intended to go to the grocery store instead. He could pick up the bath solution without the possibility of raising questions in the pharmacist's mind.

I waited in the car while he walked briskly into the supermarket, his steps slowing as he moved through the aisles. He filled a hand basket with a number of items so that the bath solution would not be quite as obvious. He was using considerable caution, but I understood his rationale.

As Carlisle paid for his purchases, I listened to the cashier's thoughts. She was too distracted by his looks to notice what he was buying. She scanned the items and put them into a bag, stammering slightly as she gave him his total.

Carlisle was unfailingly polite, as always, when he paid and bid her good evening. When he returned to the car, I told him that the cashier hadn't paid any attention to the items in his basket.

"That's good," he replied.

"So I think we really can keep this between ourselves," I said with some relief.

"Actually," he corrected, "I believe I misspoke when I made that comment earlier."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm fairly certain that Esme heard my discussion with Bella, and I imagine she's figured out by now what happened." He gave me a knowing look. "I'm sure she'll have a few words to say to you."

I groaned internally. I deserved every reprimand she could muster, but I wasn't looking forward to sitting through that.

* * *

Esme was waiting for us when we walked through the door. She gave me a stern look then held out her hand.

"I'll get the bath ready for Bella," she said as Carlisle pulled the packet of oatmeal solution from the bag.

"Is she uncomfortable?" I asked.

"Physically, not too much," my mother replied rather tartly. "But she's feeling anxious about the rash."

"It will likely spread to her face," Carlisle informed her. "Perhaps you should let her know that, and tell her not to worry."

Esme frowned at this news but gave a nod of acknowledgement. While I already knew about this possibility, I still hated hearing the words.

"It's not serious," Carlisle reassured his wife. "But it would be a good idea if you took a bottle of water up to her. Have her drink some before her bath. Keeping well-hydrated will help to clean out her system. I'll come up to check on her in a little while, but if she has any questions or concerns prior to that, let me know."

"Of course," she responded, her tone gentler with him than with me. "Oh, and I think she should remain here tonight so that you're nearby, just in case."

Esme's protectiveness was admirable. Bella brought out her maternal instincts, even more so when injured or ill.

"I'll phone her father," Carlisle said.

Esme kissed his cheek then turned her sharp gaze upon me. "You and I are going to talk later."

"Yes, Mom," I replied obediently.

She hastened away. Carlisle pulled his phone from his pocket but paused before making the call.

"Charlie didn't know Bella was taking the medication, did he?" he asked.

"I don't think so. She kept the bottle in her room, in a drawer. And even if he saw it, my name was on it."

He sighed again. "This sort of deception doesn't sit well with me."

"I know."

It was true. He hated that the nature of our existence required constant ruses, but those requisite for him to pursue his profession were easier to stomach, since he knew his presence in hospitals benefited humanity. He bristled at more overt—and less necessary—lies.

Still, the one he was about to tell could not be avoided. As he selected Chief Swan's number, I murmured, "Sorry."

He arched an eyebrow at me. "Charlie," he said amiably as soon as Bella's father answered, "it's Carlisle."

Charlie's instincts had become fairly sharp when Bella was concerned. Immediately he asked if something was wrong was his daughter.

"Nothing serious," Carlisle replied calmly. "But she's developed a rash. Has she ever had contact dermatitis before?"

Charlie answered, "No, I don't think so. Allergies don't really run in our family. I've never had anything like that happen, and her mother didn't, either—at least not while she and I were together."

"Well, these things can happen fairly suddenly."

"Are you sure that's what it is?"

"She doesn't have any signs of illness, so I feel certain this is a reaction to something she came into contact with." He arched an eyebrow at me then continued. "I don't believe it's serious, but she's rather uncomfortable. Esme is preparing an oatmeal bath for her right now, and I think a long soak in that will be soothing."

"Okay," Charlie said.

"I really don't believe there's any cause to worry," Carlisle reiterated gently, "but I'd prefer to err on the side of caution. I'd like to check her throughout the night to be certain she's all right." He did not have to feign the regret in his tone as he added, "Stress can have a significant impact on the body's immune system… I'd like to do whatever I can to help."

While his single-word response was merely a gruff, "Yeah," I felt certain that Charlie understood the tacit admission. My father was apologizing for his part in our family's exodus from Bella's life.

"I'll call you first thing in the morning to let you know how she's doing," Carlisle finished. "Would you like me to have her call you when she's finished with her bath?"

"If she's not too tired. If she just wants to go to sleep, that's okay."

"I'll tell her you wished her good night."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Carlisle."

My father tucked his phone back inside his pocket. He was glad he had not needed to tell any blatant lies, and I realized he had phrased his words carefully so that nothing he said was entirely untruthful. He hadn't actually stated that Bella had contact dermatitis…

Carlisle sighed again. "I didn't enjoy that."

"I know," I acknowledged. "I appreciate your tact. I won't put you through anything like that again."

He gave a somber nod then turned to walk away.

* * *

I felt restless while I was away from Bella. She was just upstairs, but I knew I could not be with her while she was in the bath. When Carlisle had suggested a long soak, Esme had taken him seriously; I heard her enter the bathroom several times to add hot water and more oatmeal solution to the tub so that Bella would remain as comfortable as possible. It seemed that she was in the bath for a very long time.

Finally I heard Bella get out of the tub, her small feet padding softly over the tiled floor. A few minutes later she opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway. I listened as Esme joined her, walking down the hall, past my room.

"I've set out some silk pajamas for you in my room," Esme told her. "They should be light and soft against your skin."

"Thank you," Bella replied.

"And Carlisle called your father to ask if you could spend the night here," my mother continued.

"Oh—he didn't have to do that," Bella said, but I could hear a hint of relief in her tone.

"Nonsense. It was no trouble. Carlisle and I want to be nearby if you need anything."

Their steps slowed as they entered the bedroom. I heard some concern in Esme's thoughts. She felt the rash was worsening; it was definitely spreading over Bella's neck. She planned to summon Carlisle as soon as Bella was dressed. Esme waited outside while Bella put on the pajamas then returned to take her damp bathrobe. I heard Bella yawn quietly.

"Make yourself comfortable, honey," Esme said, gesturing toward bed. She had turned down the sheets and fluffed the pillows.

"Oh no, I can't take your room," Bella protested immediately.

"Yes you can," Esme replied tenderly. "You need a good night's sleep, and this is the most comfortable bed in the house. Besides, it's good to know that someone is actually going to use it for an entire night." I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Thank you," Bella murmured. I felt fairly certain that she was blushing.

I could discern the slight rustle of the sheets as she climbed into the bed. Through Esme's thoughts, I knew that she remained sitting up against the headboard, however, rather than settling down.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Esme asked.

"Is Edward still here?"

"He's downstairs." Esme waited a moment, seeing the expression on Bella's face, then said, "I'll send him up in a few minutes. I think Carlisle wants to see you, too."

Bella nodded her assent, and Esme summoned her husband. I knew she expected me to remain where I was until she could speak with me. I waited impatiently while Carlisle went upstairs, listening intently to his thoughts as he spent several long moments assessing Bella. The rash covered a little more of her neck now, but her face remained clear. He explained that she might wake to find that the rash had spread to her face, but that was to be expected and should not be a cause for concern.

She thanked him, and he lifted her chin, kissing her forehead as he wished her a good night. He encouraged her to call for him at any time if she needed anything.

Esme echoed his sentiments, pausing at the doorway to say, "Edward will be up shortly. Sleep well, honey."

My parents descended the stairs at a human pace. Carlisle gave me a nod of reassurance, understanding that I would remain worried about Bella until the rash disappeared. Esme stopped on one of the lower stairs, facing me at eye level.

"Bella will sleep better if you're with her," she said matter-of-factly. "But as soon as she's sleeping soundly I want to speak with you."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied.

She nodded, and I hurried past her, up the stairs. Bella smiled when I entered the room. I sat down beside her, wrapping her slender body in my arms.

"How are you feeling?" I asked softly.

"Okay. The rash really isn't bothering me—except for knowing it's there."

She had no idea that her words sent a pang of regret straight to my stone heart.

"I'm sorry, love," I said.

She lifted her hand to touch my cheek. "It's not your fault."

I tucked her head beneath my chin so that she would not see the culpability written so clearly across my face.

* * *

Bella fell asleep fairly quickly. I was stretched out beside her, her head pillowed on my chest. Could I ease my body away without waking her? It was definitely a concern… but I had promised Esme I would slip away once Bella was slumbering, and I knew I needed to face my mother eventually.

With a suppressed sigh, I gradually pulled away, sliding a pillow beneath Bella's head. I waited until I was certain she would not stir, then I stood and walked silently to the door. I spared one lingering glance back, then I stepped out into the hallway.

Esme was in the kitchen, reading through some recipes on her laptop. When I entered the room, she looked up at me then gestured for me to sit across from her. I complied without complaint, waiting as she set aside the computer. Then she looked directly at me, her gaze sharp. Her thoughts revealed that she knew exactly what I had done. She had figured it out from the conversation Bella and Carlisle had in my room, and she had confirmed it with her husband as soon as I joined Bella for the night.

"I shouldn't have done it," I began.

"No," she agreed firmly, "you shouldn't have. It was disrespectful to Carlisle, and it was dangerous for Bella."

I nearly flinched at her tone. It was rare to hear such a steely edge in her voice, and that alone felt like a harsh chastisement. I nodded contritely. "I know. It was wrong on many levels. I won't do anything like that again."

She gave a single nod of acknowledgment. She had expected that I would offer some sort of justification for my behavior, that I would attempt to argue her point to some degree. My response surprised her; she could see the deep compunction I felt.

Her expression remained austere, however, as she continued, "I agree with Carlisle that most of the consequences we could impose on you would only create more distress for Bella. The poor girl has suffered quite enough." Now a flicker of guilt skittered through her thoughts, and her features softened slightly. "However, I want you to think carefully about what you did. You and I will discuss your reflections in a few days, and I expect you to have found some new knowledge about yourself that you will share with me."

She knew that articulating my feelings—let alone discussing them—was an uncomfortable prospect for me. Thus, this was probably the most apt punishment she could conceive. It took me a moment to reply, "Yes, Esme."

She gave me a nod. "All right. Now get back to Bella."

I stood, but as I turned to go, she stopped me. "One more thing, Edward," she said crisply.

I looked back at her with mild dread. "Yes?"

She lifted her hand then gracefully swept it toward the laptop. "Do you think Bella would prefer French toast or an omelet for breakfast tomorrow?"

I couldn't help but offer her a crooked smile. "I'm sure she'll love whatever you prepare. Thank you, Esme."

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she replied, "You're welcome, Edward."

I was dismissed, and with some relief I hurried back upstairs to my Bella.

* * *

When Bella woke in the morning, she required a few moments to recall where she was, and why. Tentatively she touched her cheek with a fingertip.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

I kissed her forehead. "It hasn't spread to your face."

"Really?"

I nodded. "Your neck looks about the same—no worse, though." I brushed my finger over the upper edge of the rash, just below her jawline.

She peeked down the front of the pajama top. "It's the same here, too."

"It may remain like that for another day or two."

She sighed. "At least tomorrow's Saturday, so I'll only have to deal with everyone's stares at school for one day."

I shook my head. "You don't have to go to school today. Charlie agreed to call you in sick."

"Really? Even after those unexcused absences two weeks ago?"

I nodded. "Carlisle convinced him that you should remain here, just as a precaution."

Bella smiled sleepily, her eyes moving to the bedside clock. It was almost 7:30. "Mmm, would it be okay if I stayed in bed for a little while longer?"

Esme stepped through the door, a mug of hot cocoa in her hand. "You can stay in bed all day long if you want, sweetie." She set the mug on the bedside table then turned her gaze to me. "You, on the other hand, need to get going."

"Going?" I repeated.

"Yes, Edward," she replied. "You have less thirty minutes to get to school, and the last thing you need is for Chief Swan to give you a speeding ticket."

"But I was planning to stay home with Bella," I said.

Esme shook her head. "You need to go to school to get all of Bella's assignments and fill her in on whatever she'll miss."

I was about to offer a protest, but the look in my mother's eyes stopped me. This was one punishment she could dole out without upsetting Bella. She knew how much I loathed sitting through a day of high school without Bella by my side.

Esme sat down next to Bella and wrapped an arm around her shoulder affectionately. "I'll be here all day, and Carlisle has a late shift, so he'll be home until 2:00. We'll take good care of her."

"Even so—" I began.

"It's all right, Edward," Bella said. "I won't worry about my work as much if I know you'll bring everything back for me."

Esme smiled knowingly at me. "See, it's for the best."

I sighed, knowing I had to follow through with Esme's edict. I kissed Bella good-bye then gathered my things. I would endure the interminable school day without her. And each moment that she was not at my side would serve to remind me that my actions were to blame.

As I got into the car, my spirits felt heavier but my mind somehow lighter. I suspected that Esme and I would have much to discuss when we sat down for our talk in a few days, and, while I did not particularly look forward to it, I knew that I would come away a better person. Bella deserved nothing less.

* * *

_Fin_


End file.
